Those who’ve been in a class with me know this is my favorite meditation instruction, “Taking your seat.” Here’s why.

When I first encountered meditation, like many, I struggled: Making time, a typical hurdle, wasn’t the issue. No, mine was a subtle but persistent resistance. Even though meditation was something I really wanted to do, wanted to understand, and make a part of my life—some other part of me clearly wanted none of it.

I found all kinds of interesting ways to get myself on the cushion despite this resistance: I would sort of “back” myself into meditation—“trick” myself into getting to the cushion so I’d find myself meditating without knowing how I got there. For instance, I’d roll out of bed, and, eyes half-shut, make my way to the cushion so I didn’t have time or energy to argue with myself. While it worked, and helped me develop some discipline, it also felt like a forced march—not a conducive attitude to cultivate! It wasn’t sustainable—and more, didn’t feel honest. If I was meditating to be awake, then I wanted to at least not have to sleepwalk to my practice!

This all began to shift when I noticed that my teacher’s instructions included many specific suggestions about posture and the body. She took her time in guiding, and as I listened to her voice—and then listened to my body’s responses—I noticed how I felt “gentled” into stillness, wooed almost, through such careful attention to taking my seat.

Exploring this process of approaching practice, here’s what “taking my seat” has come to mean for me: First, it acknowledges that there is an approach, a glide path to the act: A physical preparation to sit (or lie down or stand, if that’s the posture for you). Taking the time to settle, to greet oneself, gives one’s whole being some space and time to get used to the idea of what’s to come. In short: It’s kind.

So for me, the preparation to meditate is part of meditation: Taking my seat means the minute or two or five that I spend stretching or yawning, getting my cushion just right, supporting my left knee the way it likes, settling into my hips, feeling how my chest and shoulders are in relation to my hips, and then, where my spine is, how my head is in relation to all of it—and that span between the groundedness of my seat and the uplift through my spine and the way my arms slope from my shoulders, without strain. And hands? How are my hands? Tense? Or can I feel how their warmth is conveyed to my thighs? All this is taking my seat. In short: it’s generous.

The more I did this deliberately, the more the phrase opened to me. For instance, what is this taking? For me, it’s a fulfillment of my wish to practice. I’m setting my course, acting with conviction. I’m doing it with kindness and generosity, and I do it with my whole body. I’m in alignment with myself.

Interestingly, this approach to meditation influences my life outside of formal practice. Do I take my seat in meetings? When I’m with friends? Am I at home in my body during a stressful conversation? How about when I’m teaching or meeting with colleagues online? How am I “sitting” in relation to all that is happening? Even asking this in the moment brings about a kind and generous curiosity and the invitation to sit more fully in my seat.

This is a fun exploration for me, deepening in surprising ways over the years, and I love hearing how others take their seat, whatever the hurdles. Anyone who practices will meet this sometime or another.

Thanks Lynn!
Yes, I pay more and more attention to how I take my seat, as well as welcoming more and more when I feel unbalanced, tilted in th body or slightly ‘off’… Trying to differentiate from allowing the body to release what doesn’t need to be tensed and moving the body to ‘reach’ a sense of ‘balance’ or ‘ease’… At time the line is blurry between easing into and striving…
Warmly
Christine

Beautifully said Lynn, you came to my mind this morning and then I came across your post. I deeply relate to your words. For me, and for my first few years of practising, I think I was more prone to pushing through the pain of sitting for long periods, as opposed to using my sitting posture and my spine alignment as a practice in and of itself. Out of my direct experience and from your wonderful teaching, I intentionally invite my students to take their time bringing gentle awareness to sitting and working with them to find a place of effortless effort. Have a lovely Sunday. Kate

Hi Lynn-I loved what you shared about “taking your seat”. It reminded me of a silent retreat that I went to at Shambhala in Colorado. Our leader guided us to “make our own space” which included our mats, cushion, blankets, etc. and this was to be our “space” for the entire 9 days. It was actually very comforting and felt warm and personal. I always remember that whenever I’m setting up to meditate or do a body scan. Hope you are well. Hugs. Libby

Ah yes, Libby. I know this one well… making a nest for oneself. And also, using as many props as one needs! Once we get over any self-consciousness about how really taking and using the support–even in a chair–the body can actually become a support and aid to meditation–not something to ‘get over.’ Thank you for sharing this.

I am reminded once again by your reply that “this body has been good to me” and is nothing to “get over” as you say. One of the biggest lessons I learned as a new meditator and especially through the body scan is that I’ve spent most of my adult life hating my physical body because it wasn’t perfect. When I got still long enough to reflect, I realized that my less than perfect belly was the proof of three healthy uneventful births and three perfectly healthy babies. My less than perfect (saggy) breasts nourished those healthy babies. My less than perfect thighs have carried me and supported me daily and completed two marathons and a half marathon. My “wasted time sitting waiting for doctors annually” resulted in perfect medical reports and check ups. All this to say that “this body” has been good to me and more importantly a sound mind to go with the sound body. I needed to have a space and time (out of clock time) to come HOME to my own inner sacred space. Now I deeply depend on this space and time each day to feed the body, mind, and spirit. It was like giving food to a starving person. It’s my lifeline. And thanks to YOU and all the others who have impacted my practice and my life. I try to use all the wisdom that has been warmly given to me throughout my learning mindfulness. Peace and many hugs from Mobile, AL where we are celebrating Mardi Gras 2018 and completely mind-LESS!!!
Please stay in touch. I love hearing from you. Libby

I really enjoyed reading your post. I have to confess that since “Mindfulness Fundamentals” in Ramapo, where I was able to presence how you guided us to really “arrive” and “take our seat” I am able to many times remember this in my personal practice, which helps me to feel more embodied. I am teaching some middle-school adolescents and, I have noticed that giving these suggestions to check-in the body, soften the shoulders, the forehead, etc. and reminding to choose a posture that allows for a balance between relaxed and alert changes the container very significantly. When I have arrived in a classroom, and for some reason I have forgotten this introduction it feels to me that it is harder for them to settle.

Reading your post helped me to even remark more the importance for this moment, so THANK YOU!

Thank you for this beautiful reflection on “taking our seat” Lynn. Love the timing and synchronicity of reading this just now, I am teaching week 7 this week. I plan to share your post in class as well. Thank you!